


Like the Summer Sun

by fannishlyyours



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 17:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20531873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishlyyours/pseuds/fannishlyyours
Summary: John is reckless; Rodney is concerned.





	Like the Summer Sun

“You can’t be serious. Not even you’re this reckless,” Rodney shouts from the safe distance of their porch, frowning as John adjusts the safety goggles and approaches the work bench. He smirks, one hand casually going down his chest and pulling up the end of his black military issue t-shirt. “You’re not!” Rodney shouts, mouth agape, and John smoothly, single-handedly tugs the t-shirt up and off. “Fuck,” he mutters at the sight of shirtless John, golden and toned. His shorts hang low, white drawstrings untied. 

“I’m not what?” John taunts, picking up the white work gloves off the bench and slowly tugging them on. 

Rodney shakes his head to clear the fuzz that takes over any time he sees John shirtless. “Do you know how much UV radiation you’ll absorb with just thirty seconds of exposure? Even the most conservative estimates are deadly since we as a planet seem dead set on destroying what little of the ozone layer we have. You’re going to _die_ and if you think I’m going to be some self-sacrificing _home health nurse_ while you slowly die from _skin cancer_, I think you clearly haven’t realized how selfish I can be. Not to mention you won’t even have a chance to die the slow death that is cancer because I will kill you first for getting skin cancer–”

“Rodney.”

“Seriously, how reckless can you be? This is a stupid hobby. We don’t need fucking light sconces. I will buy you all the light sconces you want. I am rich! Just get out of the sun.”

John casually picks up a pipe from the bench and twirls it like a baton. “Rodney, I’m not gonna die. Besides, I put on some of that super sunscreen you made.”

“You did not! That blend doesn’t disappear into the skin like wanna-be-skin-protectants you get at CVS,” Rodney scoffs, sniffing the air to see if he might have missed the coconut scent of the sunscreen. He’d added the fragrance for John when he’d complained about the lack of fragrance. But no, no lingering scent. And he isn’t going to venture out and expose himself to the late summer California sun to verify otherwise. 

“If you don’t slather it on like cream cheese on bagel, it blends just fine,” John says, putting in his ear plugs and turning on the table saw. 

“That had better not be a comment on my breakfast habits!” Rodney yells to a John who can no longer hear him. 

Resigning himself to keeping watch in case John faints from overheating, he grumpily sits on one of the porch rockers–yet another addition by John, the man is incapable of doing unmanly things. He can see the shimmer of sweat even from this distance. John’s glorious, fit and slim and sex-on-a-stick and damn it. Now Rodney is horny on top of concerned. 

He stands and waves his arms to get John’s attention. “I’ll give you a blowjob if you come in right now. A really long, slow, dirty blowjob.”

John stops the saw and takes out the earplugs. “Sorry, what was that?” 

“Slow, dirty blowjob. Now. Inside.” Rodney says, punctuating each word for effect.

“Rodney!” John says, sounding irrationally scandalized. 

“What? It’s not like we have neighbors!” Rodney says, pointedly looking around at the mountains behind John and the ocean to their left. 

John looks around, then down at the work table and then back up at Rodney. “Yeah, okay, I guess this can wait.”

Rodney throws his hands up in the air. “Thank god! Get your ass in here.” 

Of course, John saunters slowly inside. 

*

John’s naked body is a tempting canvas, colors in gradient. Almond arms fade into honey shoulders; golden abdomen narrows to sandy hips and upper thighs before darkening at the knees. His ankles are cuffed, abruptly lightening where the sporty socks usually sit. It’s tragically unfair, Rodney thinks, that John can tan so gloriously. Rodney’s only ever turned a splotchy red, and that was before he learned of the dangers of the sun and refused his cavalier mother her whims. 

“Gonna just stare from afar?” John inquires, propped up on an elbow, pose fluid and graceful on their bed. 

“I said slow, didn’t I?” Rodney snaps without bite and takes off his remaining clothes. He climbs onto the bed and hovers over John. “God, look at you,” he breathes. 

“Rodney,” John says, soft and breathless. 

“Why do you insist on giving me a heart attack?” 

“I didn’t know that’s what I was doing.”

Rodney glares. “Don’t be facetious. Look at you, your body carries the evidence of the damage you’ve allowed.”

John rolls his eyes. He lifts an arm, bending at the elbow, palm sliding under that dark shock of hair. Muscles flex and Rodney gasps softly. 

“You do this on purpose,” Rodney says. 

“Hmm.” It’s less an agreement and more a gentle question, which Rodney ignores to stare at John some more. He’s radiating heat, the warmth a gravitational pull all its own in the air conditioned room. This close, Rodney can smell the coconut of the sunscreen, subtle and masked by the smell of John, the smell of the sun. It reminds him of the laundry John insists on drying outside on clotheslines he’s installed even though Rodney has the patent for the most energy efficient washer and dryer on the planet. 

John’s eyes are hooded and sleepy, like he’d be content to fall asleep like this, let Rodney take his fill of the feast before him. 

“Kiss me already, Rodney.” 

Rodney complies, unable to say no when John is like this, soft and patient. Rodney is not a patient person, has never been, but John can slow him down, help him feel time a second at a time instead of at the speed of light. 

The kiss is slow, languorous. Rodney falls forward, half on John and half on the bed, warm gravity winning. John’s arm slides around Rodney, pulls him closer. Rodney shifts until they are lying on their sides, Rodney’s knee sliding between John’s thighs, John’s leg comfortably draped over Rodney’s, leisurely kissing as if nothing more had been promised before this started, as if nothing more is necessary. Nothing more is until he is distracted by the gentle roll of John’s hips, the heat of his hard cock, bright and distinct in the fuzzy warmth of John’s totality.

Rodney pulls away from John’s lips, nuzzles at his jaw, feeling the faintest of stubble. He peppers John’s jaw and neck with kisses, sucks in the familiar pulse point. John’s neck is salty; the smell of him leaving Rodney heady and breathless. Rodney’s never been high, would never risk his brain cells for the fleeting illusion of flight, but he imagines it might feel something like this, intoxication so delightfully overwhelming an all-encompassing. 

He takes his time, licks his way across John’s sternum, intent on tasting John and only John--no salt, no sunshine, just pure skin. He spends an eternity on John’s nipples, one hand pinning John’s eager hand down onto the bed, keeping his unhurried pace. 

His erection is but a minor distraction in the face of his purpose, the fullness of John. But John is a little less patient, hips rocking back and forth, searching for pressure and release. Rodney bites down on a nipple, tugs lightly, licks it smooth. He lifts his head up and shifts his hips just far enough to be out of John’s immediate reach. “I said slow, John.”

John grunts, tone restlessly eager, but stops pressing forward. Rodney resumes his expedition, tongue gliding down the line of fine hair covering John’s torso. He breathes deeper as he gets closer to John’s crotch, his own urgency increasing exponentially with each millimeter of traversed skin. 

He avoids John’s cock when he reaches the leaking head, instead licking around it and onto the sharp planes of John’s torso. John whines and then gasps as Rodney’s mouth finds its way to the inside of John’s thighs. John’s legs spread, and Rodney lifts the closer one over his shoulder. Bites delicately at the tender skin. Intent on leaving a mark, something for John to remember for the next few days, he sucks on John’s inner thigh. John gasps and digs his heel into Rodney’s back. 

“_Rod_ney.” 

Rodney releases the skin, licks his way down to the back of John’s knees, palm sliding down the length of his leg, fingers pressing firmly onto the soles of his feet. John groans, hips coming off the bed. 

Content with the attention he’s paid to John’s right leg, Rodney moves onto his left and repeats the ministrations in reverse. Presses onto the soles of John’s feet, kisses up the inside of John’s thighs before finally, finally, nuzzling behind John’s balls. 

The sounds John is making, the feel and smell of him, has Rodney painfully hard and leaking onto the bed. He forces himself to remain steady, over two decades of patiently working through scientific problems coming to aid in the best sort of way. 

He sucks John’s balls into mouth, ever so gently lapping at them. John is louder now, demands melting into incomprehensible whines. By the time Rodney is licking up the length of John’s shaft, John is keening, one hand in Rodney’s hair, the other grasping at Rodney’s shoulder. 

The first taste of John’s leaking cock is electrifying. Rodney’s brain temporarily shorts out and he grinds his hips down onto the bed. 

“Yeah, Rodney, that--more of that,” John murmurs encouragingly. 

Rodney takes in the full length of John, cockhead a silky, bitter glide against the back of his throat. He pulls off and goes back down, slow and sure, over and over again until he’s lost in it. Lost in the sound and smell and taste of John. He sucks and licks and works John with his hand. He licks his way back to John’s balls, tongue reaching behind. John helpfully lifts his hips, adds a pillow under himself, and Rodney has easy access now. He tongues John’s perineum while his hand works John’s cock. 

“Fuck, Rodney, _god_,” John wails, voice breaking as Rodney’s tongue circles and circles and circles. “I’m close, so fucking close, Rodney,” John says, sounding unraveled. 

Rodney returns his mouth to John’s cock and takes him in full. Keeps him inside, swallowing around him until John is coming down his throat. His thighs flex in Rodney’s hands, and when he pulls off, he becomes aware of John’s muffled litany of curses, one arm thrown over his face, chest rising and falling rapidly as he catches his breath.

Rodney gets on his knees, straddling one of John’s thighs, and gets a hand on his cock. Watching a spent John catch his breath, Rodney pumps his cock, exhibiting none of the patience he’d shown John. It goes quick, sound and smell and sight colliding with the tight, hot feel of his own palm, and he’s stripping John’s hip and stomach with his come. 

When he collapses on the bed, John is laughing softly. “Nngh,” Rodney says, unable to form words.

“I’m gonna have to stay out in the sun some more if this is your deterrent.”

Rodney groans and buries his head in John’s neck. “Stop trying to give me a heart attack,” he mumbles against John’s warm skin. 

John cards his fingers through Rodney’s hair, and he falls asleep without another word. 


End file.
